


Acies Cupiditas

by Aicosu



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Admiral Hux, Admiration, Character Study, Hux in White Kink, Longing, M/M, Massive Crush, like if he had a big crush, very minor mitaka/hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7533703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aicosu/pseuds/Aicosu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dopheld Mitaka has seen an Angel twice in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acies Cupiditas

**Author's Note:**

> For [Alania](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Alania/pseuds/Alania), whose work [Breaking Point](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6350893) inspired this one. :D

The first time Dopheld saw an Angel he had been five years old.

Exiled, lost, rejected, the remnants of the Empire had been forced out of Republic space into the far reaches of the Unknown Regions, farther than the Outer Rim worlds.

Farther even still, past the moons of Iego.

He had been too young to remember the screamed curses at him as they had boarded refugee ships. Too young to remember his mother crying when the GRS confiscated their belongings. And too young to remember the endless screens aboard the over-crammed Star Destroyer, showing faces of Imperial Officers in his inevitable future ranks, dead. Gone. Missing.

But he remembered the moons of Iego.

The Extricatarium Nebula had been purple and sparkling, a puff of cotton fabric unwinding into space. Iego had been a giant mass of magenta fire, leaking turquoise dust in the trail of it’s orbit.

He’d thought it a comet at first. Or a ship.

A streak of white fire breaking across the viewport, dancing, pulsing, like the little sound blips of a cruiser’s radar. It amalgamated, reformed, collapsed into itself. He could make out hands, arms, various legs, trailing hair-- and suddenly no hair, ribbons of clothing, a uniformed hat--mandables, a headdress, but --wings. Wings.

Such great, long, bright, white wings. Their beauty had filled his eyes with wetness. As if they had pulled his tears to use in their length.

His father had caught him by the shoulder, pulled him away from the viewport. “Careful Dopheld. If she sees you she’ll tear the ship apart.”

It had been a true Diathim. He had learned that the experience had been rare. Precious. Something not everyone got to see in their entire life. He had poured over texts of the creature one night, reading through old datapads under the blanket of his barracks bed, collecting stolen holos. Fuzzy likenesses of faces, forms, streaks,and blurs shined at him in the darkness. Each one different, just as his memory had been. Tailor made for him. Singular.

He shelved what he could recall of the Diathim into the back of his mind. A reflection for the times when he wasn’t thinking of different burning things. Starships and bases and gunfire. War.

The second time he saw an Angel, he was twenty seven.

He was a General. With a ship of his own. Black barreling, massive, a contained galaxy sprawling with those who’d taken back the space they had been removed from. Dopheld walked obsidian hallways with caught stars in it’s tiles, reflections of endless terminals in red and blue.  
It was in the black void of the Finalizer it had streaked through. Burning, bright-- white.

Dopheld saw the wings first, snapping into the corridor before him like a wicked branch of lightning. Sudden. Seconds ago empty and now, filled. There.

He dropped the stacked flimsi in his hands. They flooded the ground before him. Sliding plastic sounded like crashing waves, smashing into the durasteel at his feet as he stood, frozen.

_If she sees you she’ll tear the ship apart._

Such great, long, bright, white wings. His eyes filled with wetness.

It amalgamated, rippled, formed. Tailor-made, just for him. For a precious, gifted, rare, second time.

And oh--

Fire red, pale, pink skinned and human. Hux. A streak of burning sunlight in white, white, white-- it was the brightest thing he’d seen. It glowed. It had to. This Angel. This Admiral.

He couldn’t stop staring, even as the bittersweet knowledge sank into him. That there was no morphing fire but the twisting synthsilk of fabric. No energy of sunlight and stardust but the perfect seams of a cape’s nervous system. A stitched illusion, claiming the air around slender, taut legs and the long column of a throat.

Admiral Hux.

Dopheld watched the trail white as Hux passed the corridor. No eyes were laid on him. No ship was torn apart. But Mitaka was a small, tiny thing, as he had always been. And Hux, Diathim even, was too spectral. Too above. Too preoccupied in a world apart to be concerned with anything so benign as him.

So Dopheld shelved everything he could recall in that moment instead. To reflect on. During the times when everything else would soon burn too. Starships and bases and gunfire. War.

“General?” Someone was saying. Had been saying. “General Mitaka?”

The Angel disappeared into the central lift of the Finalizer. A sight not everyone got to see in their life. Singular.

“General? You’re crying.”

He was. Even as he realized the officer in front of him had picked up every flimsi and held it neatly stacked for him.

“Y-yes. I am.” He breathed again and smiled. “We should file these, our Admiral awaits them.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

>  _Acies Cupiditas - Desire Lines/Edge or_[The Edge of Desire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KFAcjKnak1M)  
> [Diathim](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Diathim) \- Spectral beings often mistaken for Angels. They live on the moons of Iego.


End file.
